The previous chapter sought to establish the moral importance of our big-picture beliefs, and offered a basic outline of those beliefs for Christians. The next obvious topic for this book concerns how we obtain those beliefs. Faith is the virtue that enables us to believe well concerning the answers to big-picture questions. The first half of this chapter relies on Pope John Paul II’s encyclical Fides et Ratio (Faith and Reason) to explain the dynamics of how and why people believe in general, and believe the answers to big-picture questions in particular. This is a human thing to do and present in all people, of any or no religious tradition.

By explaining this, John Paul prepares us perfectly for the second half of this chapter, which looks at the Christian way of believing. There we find that though the dynamics of how people believe are present in all people, the content of what different people believe is importantly different. Furthermore, the dynamics of how people believe are then transformed in light of what people believe in. In sum, Christian faith is in some ways very much like, and in other ways importantly different than, other ways of believing in answering the big-picture questions. Given that the rest of this book in large part explores the difference that Christian faith makes in how we live our lives, this chapter on the content and dynamics of Christian faith is foundational for the rest of the book.

John Paul II’s 1999 encyclical Fides et Ratio relies on a straightforward quote from Aristotle to make the claim that “all humans desire to know,” and what we seek to know is the truth about the “way things are.”Fides et Ratio (Encyclical Letter, 1998), 25. The citation from Aristotle is given as Metaphysics I,1. Further references to Fides et Ratio will be given parenthetically by paragraph number. The document supports this with an observation from Augustine: “I have met many who wanted to deceive, but none who wanted to be deceived” (25).The reference to Augustine is given as Confessions X.23.33. Human beings are the sorts of creatures who “seek the truth” (28). John Paul notes that this concerns not only theoretical matters, such as scientific research. It also concerns practical matters. In a quote that is an apt synopsis of this book, John Paul says:

No less important than research in the theoretical field is research in the practical field—by which I mean the search for truth which looks to the good which is to be performed. In acting ethically, according to a free and rightly tuned will, the human person sets foot upon the path to happiness and moves towards perfection. Here too it is a question of truth. (25)

There are different sorts of knowledge, or truth, needed to live well. There is the knowledge of the dynamics of innerworldly activities and decisions, which is the domain of prudence. Yet there is also the knowledge about big-picture or, as Fides et Ratio says, ultimate questions which similarly have practical import in shaping how innerworldly activities are done. Such questions include: what is the meaning of life? What happens after death? Is there a god, and if so what is god like? Particularly given the reality of human suffering in our own lives and all around us, and given the inevitability of our death, John Paul claims:

Each of us has both the desire and the duty to know the truth of our own destiny. We want to know if death will be the definitive end of our life or if there is something beyond—if it is possible to hope for an after-life or not. (26)

Our answers to questions such as these will guide how we live our lives, and we want our answers to be true.

Note the breadth of John Paul’s claim here. He is not saying that only Christians, or only philosophers, long for the answers to ultimate questions. He is saying that all people, in whatever time or place, do so.

No one can avoid this questioning, neither the philosopher nor the ordinary person. . . . People seek an absolute which might give to all their searching a meaning and an answer—something ultimate, which might serve as the ground of all things. In other words, they seek a final explanation, a supreme value, which refers to nothing beyond itself and which puts an end to all questioning. . . . Whether we admit it or not, there comes for everyone the moment when personal existence must be anchored to a truth recognized as final. (27)

This is clearly present in different philosophical schools of thought throughout history, as seen with regard to Lucretius in the previous chapter. But it is also present in all people who, consciously or not, live out their lives in a manner reflective of our answers to big-picture questions. Our answers are embedded in our “personal convictions and experiences, in traditions of family and culture” (27). And so:

All men and women, as I have noted, are in some sense philosophers and have their own philosophical conceptions with which they direct their lives. In one way or other, they shape a comprehensive vision and an answer to the question of life’s meaning; and in the light of this they interpret their own life’s course and regulate their behavior. (30)

With the previous chapter, these passages should confirm both the moral importance of big-picture questions, and the longing for and indeed necessity of addressing these questions in all our lives. Yet if all persons are therefore built to seek the truth, and if the truth is able to be known (as Fides et Ratio clearly affirms it is), then why is there any uncertainty or disagreement regarding the ultimate questions in life, as there most surely is? Why can’t we just open our eyes and see the way things are in answer to the ultimate questions in life? In fact, humans should be uniquely equipped to know the truth of such things. Reason, or intellect, is the human capacity to know and understand the truth. Through human reasoning we can not only know what is directly seen, but also what is inferred, deduced, and construed from what we can see.

Fides et Ratio recognizes that the truthful answers to these questions are not always so transparent and offers two reasons to explain this: the “natural limitation of reason and the inconstancy of the heart often obscure and distort a person’s search” (28; cf. 22, 43). The human heart can be inconstant simply due to a welter of other concerns, and/or because our sinfulness distracts us from seeking and finding the truth that sets us free. Furthermore, the sorts of answers sought here are literally metaphysical, and thus unable to be verified with more empirical methods that so often provide us with clarity and certainty. In fact, as seen in the following section, Christians claim the truthful answers to these questions transcend even nonempirical metaphysical inquiry. This natural limitation of reason is described by St. Paul when he claims that at present we “see indistinctly” and “know partially” (1 Cor. 13:12), and that “we walk by faith not by sight” (2 Cor. 5:7; cf. Rom. 8:25). For these reasons, despite the universal presence in humanity of the longing for answers to these questions, we simultaneously lack the knowledge of clear sight in answering them.

So what is one to do? If all persons long for the answers to ultimate questions, and yet the truth of those answers is not so transparent, how is one to live? The problem is more serious than it may initially sound. After all, it may seem as if you can just simply avoid answering these questions and get on with it. That way the lack of clear sight that marks their answers would not be a problem—simply do not answer! But this is not possible. After all, the way we live our lives speaks our answers to these questions. Consciously or not, explicitly stated or not, our “personal convictions and experiences, . . . [our] traditions of family and culture” are shot through, if you will, with our answers to these questions (27). This was precisely the point of the last chapter. Our practices of sexuality, waging war, grieving for the dead, and so on all speak our answers to big-picture questions. So even if you were to try to avoid consciously thinking about these big-questions, how you live your life would still reveal your answers. So how can you come to the answers?

Simply put, we believe. Aquinas describes an act of belief as clinging to something as true even in the absence of the certitude of clear sight.For the following analysis of faith as the virtue of believing well, see Aquinas, Summa Theologiae, English Dominican trans. (New York: Benziger, 1948), II–II 1–16, esp. 1, 2, and 4. He relies on Heb. 11:1 for his basic definition of faith: “faith is the realization of what is hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.” He claims that some things in life we know because when we encounter them, or once we learn them, our reason understands them completely. We see clearly and realize the truth of the matter just by looking at what is at hand. Once we learn basic math functions, we understand the truth of things in this way. But it also happens with practical matters. A good mechanic can listen to an engine, or open the hood, and know immediately—see clearly—what is wrong with the engine based on extensive experience and knowledge of engines. Of course, errors in such matters are still possible. But in these cases there is no need to believe since we see, or at least are able to see, the truth of the matter at hand clearly.

But Aquinas recognizes there are many occasions where we may affirm things to be true without seeing clearly, without having a high degree of certitude. For instance, we may doubt or suspect something to be true. These words indicate we have a guess, if you will, as to what is true but do not know it, or see clearly. Sometimes we are a little more sure as to what is true, but still not totally sure, as in an opinion.

Where does belief fit into this? To believe is to cling to something as surely true, much in the way you do when you see clearly the truth of the matter at hand. Yet when we believe, it is not the matter at hand that is so clear or obvious that compels us to see something as surely true. Things we believe in do not lend themselves to such complete and clear knowledge. But then why, you may ask, do we believe them as surely true? Perhaps we should only have doubts or opinions about such matters. We believe some things in life as surely true because something moves, or persuades, us to see it that way, even if it is not the matter at hand. Consider some simple examples of this.

How many people are there in the United States today? You have probably learned some number that jumped into your head at the sight of this question—say, 250 million. Yet how do you know? Have you counted? No, you rely on certain individuals who are charged with conducting the census every ten years. In fact, you believe them when they tell you. This is not to say there is no right answer, or that your belief is blind. There are good reasons to believe census takers. But in the end you believe them and do not personally verify that there are 250 million people in the United States. In fact, given the amount of information we rely on in life we believe people all the time. We believe scientists who conduct research, and people who make maps, or people with local knowledge when we are traveling and ask for directions. As John Paul says,

There are in the life of a human being many more truths which are simply believed than truths which are acquired by way of personal verification. Who, for instance, could assess critically the countless scientific findings upon which modern life is based? (31)

Believing things to be true, even when we cannot personal verify them, or see the answer clearly from just the matter at hand, is a very human thing to do. It is for this reason that John Paul defines the human being not only as “one who seeks the truth,” but also “one who lives by belief” (28 and 31, respectively).

Certain things in life are believed as a matter of efficiency. It may be possible to verify them on our own using our capacity to reason, but there is simply no point in verifying all the information we need when we live in community with others who can and have done so. There are other sorts of things which are believed to be true not simply as a short cut, but rather because they are the sorts of things that elude, or rather transcend, personal empirical verification. Who are my genuine friends? Will this work be satisfying to me? Will my girlfriend or boyfriend be a good spouse? These are questions that can be answered truly or falsely. But they are not the sort of questions that are verifiable by simply using more reasoning. This is not to say there is no data available to reason about. There is often plenty. But even after considering the data at hand, we do not know for sure if we are seeing things truthfully. Nonetheless, we must decide. We must believe and act accordingly. Actually, it seems that most of the important questions in life are precisely like this; namely, they are open to reasonable consideration, and yet ultimately elude the knowledge of clear sight and thus invite us to believe and act accordingly.

What, then, impels us to believe one way or the other even in the absence of a sure knowledge of the matter at hand? After all, recall that to believe is to cling firmly to something as true, and not simply to have an opinion or suspicion. What moves or persuades us to cling firmly? In the end, we believe primarily because of people we find compelling. We trust our friends because we love them and want to do so, even though we do not know for sure that they will never betray us. We embark on a career or vocation because someone or some people who do that work are appealing to us, and/or we have been led by other people to imagine ourselves as people who would be good at, and happy in, that calling. We believe in our spouses not because the evidence of their love and character is verifiable beyond doubt. Rather we consider available evidence but ultimately believe in the person. We believe people, and that leads us to affirm many important things in life as surely true.

Doesn’t this mean we can get hurt, that we can be misled? Sadly, yes. In our friendships, vocations, marriages, and elsewhere we can believe in people and see things accordingly, and yet those people can be wrong, and perhaps even manipulative. This is why a whole web of family and friendships is so important in our lives, to give us support and broader perspective on each of our commitments. Good friends and family can indeed help us sniff out those relationships and endeavors where we are mistaken or misled. But even such a healthy network is no guarantee. Nonetheless, the only alternative is to avoid any commitment, to not believe. Or, more accurately, this is to believe that no one is trustworthy! But of course that is not only an empty life, but also equally inaccurate if it is the case that some are trustworthy. It is evident here how belief can actually enable us to reason more accurately, if what we believe in is true. Our beliefs can grow out of our reasoning about a question (since we should not believe in things that defy our reasoning), and yet once we believe that belief can then enable us to do further accurate reasoning based upon accurate beliefs. After all, the goal in answering important questions in life is not to not believe; it is to answer them truthfully. If that requires belief, then belief is the path to see things more truthfully, which then enables us to further truthful reasoning. Thus there is no way out of belief; the only question is, what do we believe in? Whom we do believe?

How we answer big-picture, ultimate questions in life is precisely like this. Questions such as whether there is a god and what god is like, what the meaning of life is, what happens after death, and so on—all these are certainly open to reasoned analysis. We consider evidence, keep an eye out for contradictions and inconsistencies, and consider ramifications of the positions we hold. In short, we use our reasoning. It is important to affirm that matters of belief, including religious belief, are not resistant to reasonable analysis. The human person may be one who lives by belief, but the person is also one who uses reason to consider the truth of things. But on some important questions our reason comes up short. We cannot know completely, or see clearly, the truth of the matter at hand. And so we believe that Jesus Christ is God, or that he is not. (Different people around Jesus in his life took each of these paths.) We believe that life goes on after death, or that it does not. There are reasons to affirm or deny these claims for sure. But reasoning will not get us all the way to an answer. So one must believe an answer, and a truthful answer will presumably best account for the evidence at hand.

Two observations regarding answers to big picture questions can be made from what was said above. First, this is not simply or even primarily an abstract intellectual exercise. It is a communal, embodied, and practical endeavor. As John Paul says

Human beings are not made to live alone. They are born into a family and in a family they grow, eventually entering society through their activity. From birth, therefore, they are immersed in traditions which give them not only a language and a cultural formation but also a range of truths in which they believe almost instinctively. (31)

The answers to the big-picture questions one obtains almost instinctively come not primarily from formal education, although that certainly helps too, but from the myriad of everyday practices one grows into in life. Recall from chapter 5 on prudence that the ability to see and decide needs formation to be done well (prudently), and that this formation comes largely in a communal context by seeing how our parents relate, how people are treated in our household and communities, and how pleasures are pursued.

The same is true of beliefs concerning big-picture questions. They are generally formed in people over time in what Cardinal Newman famously called a “muddy and bloody process.”See Robert Barron, The Strangest Way: Walking the Christian Path (New York: Orbis, 2002), 28. What we say before meals, how we mourn the dead, whether and how we observe the Sabbath—growing up and living in all these practices is what shapes our big-picture beliefs. Note that if the argument of chapter 10 is true, big-picture beliefs are obtained not just in how we soak in the explicitly religious, or nonreligious, practices around us, like going or not going to church, or saying grace, or not saying it. Those beliefs are reflected in how we live out innerworldly practices, like sharing our resources, reconciling after arguments, talking about other people, and so on. So our big-picture beliefs are also obtained through these not explicitly religious practices. They are obtained in trust of the people who nurture us in these practices.

Of course, this is not to say that such beliefs are simply inserted into us, and never taken on as our own. Sadly, it can be the case that people unreflectively stick with whatever vision of the way things are given them, perhaps to please, or out of fear of their parents, or just because it is easier. But part of growing into maturity is reflectively making the worldview one has been given one’s own, or altering it slightly, or radically, based upon other experiences. This is one area where formal study—especially theology and philosophy—can help. As C. S. Lewis aptly puts it, “If you do not listen to theology, that will not mean that you have no ideas about God. It will mean that you have a lot of wrong ones—bad, muddled, out of date ideas.”C. S. Lewis, Mere Christianity (San Francisco: HarperSanFrancisco, 2001), 155. Yet the assimilation can also be informal, as when we discuss such matters with friends, read books that interest us, or listen to a preacher or speaker who moves us. Though such reflection and growth cannot guarantee the complete accuracy of our big-picture beliefs, it can certainly help broaden our perspective and ward off errors.

Second, though it should be clear by now that belief goes beyond, but is not hostile to or dismissive of, reason, the big-picture questions in whose answers we must believe (one way or the other) are such that it is unsurprising if questioning and uncertainty persist. Belief enables us to cling to some answers as true, often with great certitude based upon the person whom we believe. But at times, due to the nature of these questions as ultimate, we will cling to our answers even as further questioning and even uncertainty persist. The presence of questioning or uncertainty at times does not mean one does not believe. Of course, should there be only uncertainty and no clinging, and particularly should there be no reflection of particular big-picture beliefs in our activities, then it is no longer accurate to say we believe in that way. But particularly in challenging times, periods of questioning and uncertainty over our beliefs do not signify the loss of those beliefs. Especially at this point, we have taken this chapter’s analysis of believing, as a human thing to do, right to the point of needing to specify exactly what one believes, and how the content of our belief shapes the dynamics of our belief.

The main point of the previous section was to use John Paul II’s encyclical letter Fides et Ratio to explain how believing in general, and believing in answers to big-picture questions in particular, is the sort of thing that human persons are built to do. It should be clear that belief is not simply—or even primarily—an abstract theoretical exercise. It certainly is an intellectual activity, since we can examine and understand the content of our beliefs in order to profess them, change them, and teach them. But the most important way to assess, profess, and teach our beliefs is through living them our in our practices. The famous words of St. Francis illustrate well where our beliefs should be most manifest: “preach the gospel at all times; use words if necessary.”

What Do You Believe? Fides Qua vs. Fides Quae

Mention of the gospel reminds us that what has not been done yet in this chapter is talk about Christian faith, or indeed the content of what anyone believes. What does Christian faith have to do with the previous section’s discussion of belief? In short, Christian faith is simply one way of believing. Believing is a human activity. When it is done consistently it is a habit. So we can have a habit of believing in our friends or spouses. We also have habits of believing in answers to big-picture questions. Some people—recall Lucretius— consistently believe that the God of the Israelites whom Jesus Christ called Father does not exist, or that there is no destiny of union with any such god after death. That is a habit of believing, one that is manifest in Epicurean practices. Of course, Christians believe in an entirely different set of answers to big-picture questions. Both of these ways of believing are habits.

We know that a virtue is a good habit, and vice a bad habit. What constitutes a good habit with regard to believing answers to big-picture questions? Since the goal of belief is to grasp the truth, a good habit is believing the accurate, or truthful, answers to those questions. Thus, though there are many different habits of believing answers to big-picture questions, it is not possible to say that both Lucretius and Christians believe well when they affirm opposite things about the way things are. Only one, or neither, can be right, where the content of their faiths is directly contradictory. The term faith can be most basically understood as virtuous believing, the good habit of believing true answers to big-picture questions. There may be many types of habits for believing, but to the extent that they are importantly different they cannot all constitute virtuous believing.

Note that the term faith is used in two ways in this chapter. In one sense, it refers to a habit by which we believe answers to big-picture questions. One has a good habit of believing (i.e., the virtue faith) when one believes the true answers to those questions. Here the term refers to the habit one possesses. A second meaning of faith refers to the answers themselves. People may ask you, “what is his or her faith?” and you might reply, “he is a Muslim” or “she is Christian,” or “he is Jewish,” or “she is an atheist.” All of these answers refer to the content of what the person believes in. In short, faith can be understood either as the habit by which we believe answers to big-picture questions (traditionally called fides qua, or “faith by which” we believe), or as the content of what we believe, the actual answers to those questions (traditionally called fides quae, or “faith which” we believe).

The entire first section of this chapter has been a discussion of fides qua, or the faith by which we believe. The point there was to show that human beings are believing persons about many things in life, but especially about the answers to big-picture questions. In a more general and descriptive sense, everyone has some sort of faith, if faith is meant simply as any habit of believing answers to such questions. Not only people of different religious traditions, but even atheists like Lucretius have faith in this sense of a habit of consistent belief.

But so far there has been almost no discussion of fides quae, or what people believe in. The last chapter offered a contrast between two faiths in the fides quae sense: Christianity and Epicureanism. But so far this chapter, relying on Fides et Ratio, has simply described the human dynamic of believing, or fides qua. This is done intentionally both by John Paul II, and here in this chapter. The point of starting with fides qua is to demonstrate that believing in answers to big-picture questions is a human thing to do, and not simply something done by Christians. All persons, of any or no religious tradition, believe in the fides qua sense, as seen not only in what they consciously and explicitly profess, but also in how they live out their lives.

That said, the content of what is believed, fides quae, matters enormously. In fact, attending to the content of faith impacts the dynamics of how one believes, the fides qua. In this chapter on faith, we are exposed for the first time to a main theme of the second half of the book. The theme is summed up in the famous phrase, “grace perfects nature,” a phrase explained more fully in chapter 16.See Aquinas, Summa Theologiae, I.1,8 ad. 2: “cum enim gratia non tollat naturam sed perficiat.” For now, suffice it to say that Christian faith not only responds to and satisfies natural human longings, like the longing to believe, but also transcends and transforms them. Explaining how this is the case with regard to believing is the task of the remainder of this chapter. We will see how what Christians believe in (fides quae) transforms the dynamics of how Christians believe (fides qua).

What Christians Believe and Its Transformation of How They Believe

The task of this section is neither a comprehensive explanation, nor a defense, of what it is that Christians believe. Enough will have to be said about the content of Christian faith (the fides quae) in order to explain how that impacts the virtue faith by which Christians believe what they do (fides qua). The rest of this chapter explores how believing looks different for Christians based on the content of what we believe. That will prepare us for the rest of the book, which explores how Christian faith shapes how we live by permeating all areas of our lives.

Turning back to Pope John Paul II’s Fides et Ratio, we can see both how Christian faith satisfies natural human questioning and proclivity for belief, and yet also supernaturally transcends that natural human longing. John Paul has already established the general human dynamics of belief to which Christian faith responds:

It is the nature of the human being to seek the truth. This search looks not only to the attainment of truths which are partial, empirical or scientific; nor is it only in individual acts of decision-making that people seek the true good. Their search looks towards an ultimate truth which would explain the meaning of life. And it is therefore a search which can reach its end only in reaching the absolute. Thanks to the inherent capacities of thought, man is able to encounter and recognize a truth of this kind. Such a truth—vital and necessary as it is for life—is attained not only by way of reason but also through trusting acquiescence to other persons who can guarantee the authenticity and certainty of the truth itself. There is no doubt that the capacity to entrust oneself and one’s life to another person and the decision to do so are among the most significant and expressive human acts. It must not be forgotten that reason too needs to be sustained in all its searching by trusting dialogue and sincere friendship. . . . Men and women are on a journey of discovery which is humanly unstoppable—a search for the truth and a search for a person to whom they might entrust themselves. (33)Note the word “ultimate” (emphasis added) is used here instead of “ulterior,” which is found in the official English translation of the document. Based upon the original Latin text (Eius perscrutatio in ulteriorem intenditur veritatem quae sensum vitae dilucidare posit) the English term “ultimate” seems more accurate.

This long quotation is a perfect summary of the first section of this chapter. It is also a perfect preparation, as John Paul intends, for understanding how it is that Christian faith satisfies and transcends the natural human longing to understand, in belief and in community with others, ultimate truths about the way things are.

Christian faith is the virtuous and truthful expression of this longing. With humanity poised to know the truth in the manner described in the above quotation, John Paul claims that Christian faith fulfills that longing, both in its answers to the ultimate questions, and especially in the ultimately trustworthy person of Jesus Christ:

Christian faith comes to meet them, offering the concrete possibility of reaching the goal which they seek. Moving beyond the stage of simple believing, Christian faith immerses human beings in the order of grace, which enables them to share in the mystery of Christ, which in turn offers them a true and coherent knowledge of the Triune God. In Jesus Christ, who is the Truth, faith recognizes the ultimate appeal to humanity, an appeal made in order that what we experience as desire and nostalgia may come to its fulfillment. (33)

Christian faith satisfies what human persons long for by nature: to know the truthful answers to big-picture questions based on trust in some reliable person. Yet Christian faith opens humanity up to a knowledge of God and a human destiny that far transcend what humanity could know through the “simple believing” that is proper to human nature. Thus, Christian faith satisfies the nature of the human person as one who lives by belief, and yet offers answers which the person could never arrive at on his or her own. Then how do Christians have faith?

In short, Christian faith (as both fides qua and fides quae) is a gift given to persons. Christian faith (fides qua) enables the believer to know that the answer to his or her questions about the ultimate source and ground of all being (fides quae) is not an abstract formula, but rather the personal God of love, the triune communion of persons that is Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. As stated in the last chapter, the God who is love created all out of love, and created human persons with unique capacity (imago Dei) for loving union with God in interpersonal communion. For reasons explained in chapter 14, the God of love became a human person, Jesus Christ. The content of Christian faith (fides quae) is this story about who God is, how God relates to humanity, what destiny God calls us to, and how God is most perfectly known in the person of Jesus Christ.

Jesus Christ is not only the focal point of Christian faith, in the fides quae sense; Jesus Christ is the path to Christian faith in the fides qua sense. Jesus says, “I am the way the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me” (John 14:6). All Christian faith derives ultimately from an encounter with this person, who is found ultimately trustworthy and thus who leads us to faith. Recall that we are moved to believe things in life through trust in a person. Christian belief comes from trust in Christ. From the disciples who walked with Jesus in the Holy Land, to followers today who encounter the living Christ in the church as the Body of Christ, all Christian faith comes from Jesus Christ. In Jesus Christ we encounter that perfect communion of God and humanity to which all persons are called. Humanity from the beginning has been called to a destiny—a supernatural destiny—of union with God, which is made perfectly visible in the ultimate sacrament, or symbol, of God’s presence with us: Jesus Christ. This is eternal life, most properly understood not simply as life without end (eternal) but as life without any limitation, sometimes translated as the fullness of life. It is complete happiness, fulfillment. Indeed, Christian faith as knowledge of these truths (fides qua) is actually a foretaste of our supernatural destiny of eternal life in union with God, since knowledge of who God is constitutes a sort of union with God, although it is not complete in this life).See Catechism of the Catholic Church 163. It references Aquinas, Summa Theologiae, II–II 4,1, as well as St. Basil the Great’s On the Holy Spirit 15, 36.

See how far we have gone in just paragraphs from the human quest described in the first section. That quest has been answered, but in a manner far transcending humanity’s unaided capacities. And so we see how the content of what Christians believe (fides quae) shapes the habit by which they believe (fides qua). Consider several distinctive features of the virtue of Christian faith that follow based upon the content of what Christians believe to be true.

First, faith is personal. The Christian virtue faith is not the conclusion of some abstract reasoning process. One can, of course, reason about one’s faith. But the origin of Christian faith is a personal relationship with Jesus Christ. Note that personal here refers to interpersonal communion, and not primarily to an individual relationship with Christ. Though a person of faith is surely in relationship to Christ as an individual, that relationship always has a communal context. Faith is obtained in community with others, and the destiny to which we are called, as illuminated by faith, is a thoroughly communal one. The church in this life, and communion of saints in the next, are simply names for this community. Thus both the destiny known in Christian faith (fides quae), and the way in which that faith is obtained and held (fides qua), are rooted in loving interpersonal communion.

Second, this relationship is initiated by God. We know what we know in faith only because God has revealed Himself to us, most perfectly in Christ Jesus, but also in a multitude of other avenues including the Old Testament, our consciences, and creation all around us. Faith is a gift. We know this through the stories of God’s generous gifts of faith to people throughout salvation history.The Catechism of the Catholic Church, 2nd ed. (Vatican City: Libreria Editrice Vaticana, 1997), 145–49, mentions two exemplars of faith, Abraham and Mary. We also know it must be a gift because what is given exceeds our unaided human capacities. Beliefs in the Trinity, in the full humanity and divinity of Jesus Christ, and in the resurrection of the body (explored in chapter 13) are all beyond what we could understand on our own. Thus faith is only possible through God’s assistance (called grace, and explored in more detail in chapter 16).

Third, though faith transcends our unaided capacities and originates from God as a gift, that is not at all to say faith it not truly our own. Faith in the sense of fides qua is the virtue by which we believe truthful answers to ultimate questions. A virtue is a quality of a person, a part of that person. And so one’s faith is truly one’s own. It is not possible without God’s help, and it is born and nurtured in community with others. But it is truly one’s own in that it is a change in us whereby our intellect and will know the truth about the God who is. In fact, because the virtue faith is one’s own, God does not give faith against the will of the believer. Here is yet another example in the Christian story of how God respects and satisfies human nature, yet ultimately elevates and transcends it. Faith is part of us and our own, but when given it transforms us and makes us more than we could be on our own.

Fourth, and to come full circle back to John Paul’s description of faith as the answer to a natural human longing, the knowledge of faith does not defy or leave unaffected human reasoning. It completes and elevates human reasoning. As John Paul says:

[St.] Thomas had the great merit of giving pride of place to the harmony which exists between faith and reason. Both the light of reason and the light of faith come from God, he argued; hence there can be no contradiction between them. . . . More radically, Thomas recognized that nature, philosophy’s proper concern, could contribute to the understanding of divine Revelation. Faith therefore has no fear of reason, but seeks it out and has trust in it. Just as grace builds on nature and brings it to fulfillment, so faith builds upon and perfects reason. Illumined by faith, reason is set free from the fragility and limitations deriving from the disobedience of sin and finds the strength required to rise to the knowledge of the Triune God. . . . Faith is in a sense an “exercise of thought”; and human reason is neither annulled nor debased in assenting to the contents of faith, which are in any case attained by way of free and informed choice. (43)

Faith and reason have been compared to two wings of a bird which work together in support of the human person’s quest for truth. Both are needed, and they complement rather than rival one another.

This truth [of faith], which God reveals to us in Jesus Christ, is not opposed to the truths which philosophy perceives. On the contrary, the two modes of knowledge lead to truth in all its fullness…. It is the one and the same God who establishes and guarantees the intelligibility and reasonableness of the natural order of things upon which scientists confidently depend, and who reveals himself as the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. This unity of truth, natural and revealed, is embodied in a living and personal way in Christ. (34)

This complementary relationship between faith and reason is not at all surprising once we recall that the God who is known in faith is the God who created us with the capacity to reason. And thus this final observation on faith and reason is the perfect way to conclude this section, the purpose of which has been to show how Christian faith, in terms of what we believe (fides quae), not only satisfies the natural human longing for truth but also elevates and transforms that capacity to believe (fides qua). Just as “faith liberates reason in so far as it allows reason to attain correctly what it seeks to know and to place it within the ultimate order of things, in which everything acquires true meaning” (20), Christian faith satisfies, transforms, and elevates the nature of the human person as one who believes.

Though a chapter conclusion should generally not be the place to offer new material, it may help here to state some straightforward definition of faith that assimilates the arguments made in this chapter. Faith can refer to the content of what is believed (fides quae), as when we hear, “Do you believe the Catholic faith?” or “Even an atheist has faith in some sense!” But in this book structured on the virtues, it is the other sense of faith, the habit of believing answers to big-picture questions (fides qua), that is meant when we list together faith, hope, and love as theological virtues.

It can be said that everyone has some sort of faith, both in content and in manner of believing. After all, explicitly or not, consciously or not, everyone lives out some set of answers to the big-picture questions in life. This is true of people of different, or no, religions. And everyone develops some sort of habit of believing in those answers. But, of course, to the extent that the term faith means not just a habit, but a virtue, then it only properly refers to people who believe true answers about big-picture questions, and who believe those things well.

It is this more precise sense of the word that is meant by the theological virtue faith that is grouped with hope and love. The theological virtue faith may be defined as the virtue by which we believe in true things about God and God’s relationship to humanity. Faith is properly called a theological virtue since, as you recall from chapter 3, theological virtues concern God directly. Even though faith shapes all our activities in life, what is believed in faith concerns God’s very self, and how God has related to humanity. Furthermore, because faith concerns God’s very self, it satisfies, yet transcends and elevates, our natural human capacities. Therefore it is possible only with God’s assistance, called grace. We see already how importantly different the theological virtue faith as Christians understand it is from the broader sense of faith understood, say, by Epicureans like Lucretius. It would make no sense for Lucretius to say that the habit he has of believing answers to big-picture questions is a gift, a fruit of personal relationship initiated by God. Here we see typified how one’s fides quae impacts one’s fides qua. We also see why only believing Christians have the theological virtue of faith.

This sounds offensive to some people. How in this day and age can we dare say that only one group of people (in this case a religious group) can be right? Isn’t this being judgmental? More on judgmentalism will follow in chapter 17, but we can say here that the nature of big-picture questions is such that opposing view points cannot both be right. There is a god or there is not. Jesus Christ is the Son of God or he is not. There is a destiny of union with God and others after death, or there is not. The answers to these questions are not true or false based upon what we believe. The answers are what they are, and we seek to believe truthfully. Particularly given the way faith is lived out in our innerworldly practices, this surely raises complicated questions about how and why people have faith in the Christian sense or not: need faith be creedally professed? Are people who lack faith to blame for that lack? If the Christian story is true, what does God have in store for people who are not Christian?

These are important questions, but questions for another book. Suffice it to say two things here. First, the Catechism of the Catholic Church recognizes that though Christians know through revelation that baptism and the sacraments are a path to eternal life, God is not limited in his action to his sacraments.Catechism of the Catholic Church, 1257. In other words, God can bring people to full union with himself even outside the sacraments. What exactly this means as for who is saved, what is required, how that happens, and so on is one of the most difficult and divisive set of questions today in theology. Still, the point here is that Catholics do not today make the absolute claim that no one who is not a baptized Catholic can attain eternal life.

Second, the problem here is not simply one of religious people being exclusive. People of no matter what set of big-picture beliefs must think that those who hold contrary beliefs are wrong. If it is the case that one’s answers to big-picture questions matter (as this chapter and the previous have sought to demonstrate), then to know the truth concerning such questions will set us free. Yet this is true of whatever set of answers is true. Note, this is exactly the claim of Lucretius as well as Christians. Presumably an atheist like Lucretius would think Christians are living in a manner reflective of an importantly distorted view of reality. He would think their ability to live a good life is hindered by this. If the truth matters in these questions, it is no use saying it does not matter just to avoid sounding offensive to those of a different or no faith tradition. And as for those who think any view of the big-picture questions is irrelevant for how we live, that is not a way to avoid disagreeing with folks like Christians or Epicureans; it is simply another position, and one that regards both Christians and Epicureans as deficient in important ways. Regardless of one’s position, then, there is no way to avoid having a position, and doing so inherently means an at least implicit recognition that other positions are deficient in some important way.

So it suffices here to rest in the tension between affirming the importance of believing truthful answers to big-picture questions, and recognizing that from a Christian perspective we trust God is just and loving and thus somehow fair and inclusive. But to return to our definition of faith, for Christians the virtue faith is belief in true answers to ultimate questions, and the way it is obtained and expressed is reflective of the Christian understanding of who God is, how God relates to us in history, and how humanity is built with a capacity for faith and reason.

1. Why does John Paul II claim that all people, no matter what, if any, religious belief they hold, seek the answers to ultimate or big-picture questions?

2. Why, according to John Paul, are the answers to these questions elusive? Can, therefore, one avoid answering (even if not asking) these questions? Why or why not?

3. Describe the act of belief. Give two different reasons why it is necessary to believe certain things. Give an example of each from your own experience.

4. What role is there for other people in the ways we believe? In what ways are we vulnerable when we believe? How can we ensure we are not misled when we believe?

5. Describe the relationship between faith and reason. Are they the same thing? Mutually exclusive? Complementary? Explain.

6. Explain the difference between fides qua and fides quae.

7. How does faith in the fides qua look different in the context of the Christian story (fides quae)?

8. In what sense can everyone be said to have faith? Who has the theological virtue faith?

to believe, fides qua vs. fides quae, faith in general, faith as a theological virtue

1. John Paul II claims that people are built, if you will, to seek the truth. They are also built to believe as part of that quest. Is this true? What sorts of evidence would you offer to support or refute this view of humanity?

2. The chapter parallels belief in human relationships with belief on big-picture questions, such as Christian faith. In what ways are they similar? In what ways are they different?

3. Try and imagine how some non-Christian (religious or otherwise) would understand belief in ultimate questions. How would the fides quae impact the fides qua?

4. The conclusion of this chapter is the natural springboard from which to engage in study or discussion of the question of whether and how non-Christians can attain eternal life. Is eternal life possible for non-Christians, and if so, how? Is it possible to simultaneously claim that faith is morally important and that people who do not hold Christian faith can live most fully?

The foundational text for this chapter is obviously Pope John Paul II’s Fides et Ratio. Also crucial is Aquinas’s analysis of belief and faith in the Summa Theologiae, II–II 1–16. For a helpful overview of faith, see also the Catechism of the Catholic Church 26–184 (esp. 142–84). Robert Barron’s The Strangest Way and C. S. Lewis’s Mere Christianity have also been helpful in teaching these topics.